


Heat Me Up and I Go Hard

by ZeroInvador



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Amélie gets handsy, Basically, Birthday gift for Winston, F/F, Genji being a bitch, Genji ruins everything, Getting steamy in here, I don't know what I'm doing, Lena wants to 1v1 Genji, Lúcio being a good friend, Making pots for friends, Overwatch AU, Poor Lena sucks at pottery, Widowtracer, Will add more tags as I go, a little bit of snogging, pottery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-13 16:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10517928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroInvador/pseuds/ZeroInvador
Summary: So maybe it wasn't Lúcio's best idea for a birthday gift for Winston.Or was it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty, this idea came to me a few months ago and it's taken me this long to post something on it. I used to take pottery lessons and well, that lead to this idea... I'm curious if it's something people would want to read, plus I haven't seen any pottery fics yet so I'm here to fill those unwanted needs you never knew you had. Enjoy!
> 
> Naming it was hard, see the notes below for my Discord chat's ideas, the names were golden, honestly.

Lena awoke to the sound of her phone alarm, obnoxiously ringing in her ear. She groaned, blindly searching for the device before tapping her fingers against the screen in a swiping motion. It took a few tries until she gave up and cracked an eye open, squinting at the bright light of the notification before finally managing to hit the snooze button, the time reading 7:30AM in big white text. She sighed, rolling over onto her back before groggily opening both eyes with a wide yawn.

It was an early Saturday morning, a particular morning that Lena felt was too early, because who the hell wakes up early on a Saturday morning? And willingly? Groaning to herself, she silently cursed Lúcio for giving her the reason for having to get up early.

Laying on her desk was a dark purple gift card for a few pottery classes, bathed innocently in the morning sun rays streaming through her blinds. When she told him that she struggled to find a suitable birthday gift for Winston, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind. Make him a vase, really? Lena was in no way a creative individual, but for Winston, she supposed she would try. In a way, it was sweet. A gift from the heart meant a lot more than buying Winston something obvious like a new lab coat, or peanut butter.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she looked around the room for a towel and clean clothes, deciding that a shower was much needed. Lena peeled back the covers, instantly wishing she hadn't as the cold from her room chilled her skin, making goosebumps appear along her arms and legs. She shivered, her teeth chattering as she grabbed the nearest towel from the rack and the first shirt and jeans her fingers brushed against from her wardrobe, too tired to care about what she'd picked.

After closing the bathroom door, she stripped and turned on the shower, waiting a few second for the water to warm itself before slipping under the hot stream. Lena slicked her short messy hair back, which was the only way to actually calm it down. She stood there under the faucet for a good long while as she thought about how her day would go. The shower was where she usually did most of her thinking.

As the warm water droplets cascaded down her back, she thought of the pottery class. How would it go, would her teacher be patient with her, could she actually make a nice vase for Winston without busting a couple veins in her forehead? She'd have to wait and see. After giving herself a quick wash over and her hair a good scrub, Lena turned off the shower and stepped out, quickly grabbing the towel and hanging it off her shoulders as she gingerly stepped on the cool bathroom tiles, drying herself as quickly as she could in the chilly room. She chucked on a pair of blue boxers with a black sports bra, along with the grey vest, orange plaid shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans that she'd grabbed before her shower.

Next task was her hair, and the challenge of trying to dry it without having it stand on end. A task she always failed at tremendously. Even now, it was stubbornly starting to stick up at odd angles. A quick dry with the towel and a blow of the hairdryer had her sighing in defeat, glaring in the mirror at the strands of hair that stuck up near the front. She'd settle for sticking a beanie hat over the unruly spikes, most of which still poked out at the front anyway.

Lena checked her watch; her eyes widened, realising in a panic that she'd taken too long in the shower as the time crept closer to 9. Lena swiped the gift card from her bedside table and slipped it into her back pocket before making her way downstairs. Shoving her converse on roughly at the door, she grabbed her keys, jacket and an apple; stuffing the latter in her mouth before unlocking the front door of her apartment and kicking it shut behind her.

The drive into town was a slow, painful and busy journey; heavy traffic at every turn and traffic light stop, probably people out doing their last minute Christmas shopping. Lena sighed as she checked her watch for the umpteenth time that morning, her fingers tapped against the steering wheel impatiently as she waited for the lights to turn green. At this rate she'd be late for her first lesson, which is what she had hoped to avoid. She hoped her teacher would be understanding.

Oh boy, how wrong she was.

 

* * *

 

Finding a parking space in the car park was a pain in her arse, most available spots were either too tight of a space or other cars had parked over the lines. It felt like everyone in the whole damn city were out shopping this morning. Just Lena’s luck, and it _would_ be a morning she was late on. She settled for a space down the road, just a short walk from the leisure centre building. Parking up, she checked her watch one more time as she got out and started walking up the street, quickly turning it into a jog at the lateness of the time- 9:07AM. Seven minutes late wasn't so bad, right? She ran up the steps, taking two at a time before rushing through the automatic doors.

Lena followed the many colourful signs around the building for the art studio; coming across multiple arrows, the same purple colour as the gift card, that pointed her in different directions. She found herself outside another door; this time, a smooth black one with a single rectangular window at the center, and a shiny silver plaque with ‘A.Lacroix’ on the left side. Peering through the glass pane told her the class was well past just starting. _Bugger._

She wrapped her fingers around the shiny door handle, sending one last wish to whoever was listening for a kind teacher (maybe a sweet old lady, that'd be nice) before pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold. Silence greeted her once she made it through the door, heads whipping from the front to her direction as quiet whispers circulated around the room.

Her eyes swept over the people around her, searching for an empty pottery station that she could hopefully sit down at, and not draw as much attention to herself. Unfortunately for Lena, the only space available was close to the front next to the teacher's desk. Of course, nobody would _willingly_ sit there, that was until she got a good look of the teacher, whose piercing (golden?) eyes fixed her with a hard stare.

“Are you quite finished interrupting my class, Miss...?”

_God help me._

To say her teacher was pretty would have been an understatement. No, she was absolutely jaw dropping _gorgeous;_ all sharp angles and features but with a feminine touch. A slightly upturned nose, high cheekbones and full painted lips. Red, Lena’s favourite. Her inky blue hair pinned back into a long ponytail that Lena was pretty sure reached past her waist. The woman that stood before her towered over her by at least a couple of inches; even without the black heels that she wore, Lena guessed she'd be at least 5'9. And with a killer French accent? She was so screwed.

Realising a bit too late that she was openly checking the teacher out, Lena snapped her eyes back up to the woman's face, noting her raised eyebrow and unimpressed expression.

Lena gulped nervously, her mouth feeling a little dry. “Oxton. Lena Oxton.” She replied, sticking out a palm for the woman to shake.

The pottery instructor's eyes flicked down towards her hand, then back up to her face before turning on her heel to sit behind her desk, leaving Lena by herself; still holding her hand out, gaping at the woman.

“Y’know it's _rude_ to leave someone hanging.”

The woman turned back around, hair following her like a sharp whip. “It is also _rude_ being late to my class.”

Lena huffed. “Traffic was a b-”

_“Sit down,_ Oxton.”

She fought to hold her tongue, biting the tip to stop herself from retaliating. Really, there was no point in fighting this woman. Let her _think_ she won this round. Lena almost gave up trying once she saw the older woman smirk at her smugly.

_Let it go, Lena. It's not worth it._

Scowling in response, she sat herself down at the only available pottery station; almost directly in front of the infuriatingly smug face of her instructor.

Lena pulled off her beanie, chucking it down on the desk before pulling out her phone from her jeans pocket. She gave her instructor one last scowl before opening her contact list to find Lúcio’s number to send him a quick message.

 

**_You didn't bloody tell me_ **

**_the teacher was such a cow!_**

 

Almost instantly, her phone screen lit up with a notification.

**_I thought she'd be your type?_ **

 

**_… I don't have a type._ **

 

**_Tall, dark haired and aloof?_ **

**_You have a type._ **

 

Lena frowned, chancing a glance at the dark haired woman before her. She had to admit, the woman really was pretty to look at, and her cold personality simply added to her attractiveness.

Without realising, she’d managed to catch the woman's attention; narrowed, golden eyes snapping up to meet her light brown ones, the smallest of smirks graced her lips and something told Lena the woman _knew._

She jerked herself out of her thoughts, mentally swearing at herself for staring so long as she lowered her eyes back to her phone, her cheeks tinged a pretty pink.

 

**_...Fuck, I have a type._ **

 

* * *

 

Lena tried, she _really_ tried to make something at least resembling a vase. She was determined not to ask for help, good lord, she'd never hear the end of it from the French woman. No, Lena was too proud to ask, so instead, she struggled on.

The lump of clay in her hands felt too thin, and with a frustrated noise, Lena lifted her foot from the machines pedal, and wiped her clay caked hands on the baggy overalls she'd donned as she watched the table slowly spin to a stop. She peered around at the rest of the classroom, instantly regretting it once she saw how nobody else seemed to have the same problem as herself.

Lena sighed. If only she hadn't pissed off her tutor, maybe she wouldn't be having so many problems. But she was determined to prove to this Lacroix woman that she could bloody well make a damn vase, that, and give Winston something that didn't look like a heap of shite.

She tried again and again, still not getting the hang of it. Each of her creations we're either too wet or too thin to even dry into a stable structure. She blew her fringe up from her face as she stuck her tongue out to concentrate.

Little did she know, she was being watched from afar.

Amélie Lacroix stood to the side of one of her new students as they worked, offering her guidance as best she could and with a good view to the rest of her classroom, just in case anyone else appeared to need her help.

Everyone she'd seen to had seemed to get the hang of sculpting pretty easily, to her delight.

All except...

Her eyes flicked over to her left, or more specifically, over towards the young woman struggling at the front of her class. Amélie watched as the Oxton girl continued to fail at making a decently shaped bit of pottery. She almost felt pity towards the poor girl. _Almost._ Why the girl hadn't ended up asking her for help, she'd never know. She took note of how the brown clay sprinkled across the woman’s pink cheeks; making them look even more freckled than before, how the front of her overalls were covered in the brown mess and yet still, she pushed on with determination. Amélie might not entirely favour the girl, since her first impression had gone South, but she _did_ admire her drive to accomplish.

Perhaps she could stand to be a little kinder to her, at least until she managed to make something properly.

The Oxton girl must have sensed her watching as she peered at Amélie in the corner of her eye, slowly turning her head to look at her. The eye contact only lasted for a few seconds before Lena quickly lowered her eyes back to her clay mound, a quick blush forming under her messy cheeks.

But despite looking down in embarrassment, Amélie noticed she looked over again curiously, immediately catching her eye once more.

Amélie’s eyes narrowed and without breaking the eye contact, she took over the student’s project next to her; standing in front of the table and with her hands dripping wet with watery clay, as she caressed and worked her fingers around the student’s vase.

She watched as Oxton's eyes widened but not once did she look away, as if transfixed by Amélie’s slender fingers making the sculpture. Amélie gave her a smirk, looking down at the- now mess- in between Lena's hands. Lena followed her gaze, unsurprised to find another shitty failed attempt under her fingers. 

_This one will be fun to tease,_ Amélie thought.

 

 

* * *

 

“Oh, bugger it all!” Lena huffed, glaring at the pile of clay roughly squeezed between her fingers. No point in holding back now, she thought, it was already crap from the moment she'd started.

“You are a little too heavy handed.”

Lena jumped a little, not expecting to have an audience and knowing _exactly_ who it was. Only one woman in this room had a killer French accent like that. She hadn't heard the other woman approaching her station, too caught up in her failed vase attempt. She leant back in her chair, exhaling deeply and without looking at the woman behind her. “Do us a favour and _warn_ me, if you're gonna creep up on me like that.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She could hear the slight smile from her voice, which only made Lena feel more defensive of her work.

“If you came ‘ere to gloat-” she'd started to say before being cut off by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor just behind her.

Peering over her shoulder for a better look, and to her surprise, she found her instructor dragging over a stool and placing it close behind her own before plonking herself down and rolling up her overall sleeves. “Actually, I came here to help you. If you aren't too _proud_ to accept my help, that is.” She answered with a raised, perfectly arched eyebrow.

For a second, Lena was almost tempted to tell her to piss off. At least until she felt the mushy, ruined clay still in her hands. If Winston was _ever_ gonna get something nicely made from her, she’d need all the help she could get. Reluctantly, she gave a silent nod of acceptance before turning back towards the front.

Strong, pale arms slid under hers to rest against her hips as Amélie used the leverage to pull herself even closer; hips rolling forward as her front pushed flush against Lena's back. The stool behind her creaked and scraped along the floor as it rocked against her own. Lena tensed as she felt herself _between_ those damn thighs she'd admired earlier.

Cool breath blew past her ear as the French woman leaned in to chuckle, the vibration from the woman's throat quivering against her shoulder. “ _Relax_. You're in safe hands.”

That only seemed to make Lena feel worse, the tips of her ears burning from the contact. This woman was enjoying herself, and at _her_ expense.

Well, two could play at that game, she thought.

As subtly as she could, Lena slowly ground her hips back into Amélie’s; just barely brushing between her legs. She felt the hands at her hips grip a little harder, and was delighted once she heard a sharp intake of breath against the nape of her neck. Such a pretty sound. Lena shuddered, wondering what _other_ noises she could coax out of those plump red lips.

Lena turned her head to the side to see Amélie’s face, amused to find an expression mixed with surprise and hunger. She grinned. “You were gonna give me a hand, yeah?”

Without missing a beat, her instructor replied. _“Oui._ Step on that pedal for me, won't you? _”_ Lena quickly obliged. She was pretty sure she'd do just about anything she was asked by this woman.

Amélie relinquished her hold on Lena's hips to dip her hands into the water bucket next to her, before sliding her wet fingers between Lena's own, gently cupping the shorter woman's digits to guide them smoothly, moulding the clay between their hands.

Losing all concentration, Lena pushed down on the pedal a little too hard, earning a few more splashes of clay to coat her cheeks. Amélie leant in closer, her cool breath whispering against Lena's ear. “Ease up on the pedal, _chérie._ Take it slow.”

Lena’s chest thrummed wildly, pretty positive that Amélie would be able to feel it with her chest pressed as tightly as it was against her back. Having the woman's slippery fingers between her own was creating another type of wetness elsewhere. She hadn't realised that her instructor had been speaking while these thoughts swam through her head.

“Your gay is showing.”

“Beg pardon?” Lena blinked. _Did she just…? No, surely not-_

“I said ‘ _your clay is flowing_ ’. Please pay attention when I'm speaking to you, Oxton.”

Something else was definitely flowing, but Lena decided not to mention that little tidbit.

Amélie started to smooth her hands up the clay structure, guiding Lena's smaller hands into making it longer. She lightly pushed both her forefingers and middle fingers inwards to create a thinner neck for the vase while using her thumbs to construct the inside.

With this woman's soaking fingers brushing beside hers, it was becoming far too distracting _, and_ a turn on, thanks to how talented those fingers were. There was just something about having her own hands controlled. Not to mention the cool breath in her ear _and_ the warm body pressed against hers, that wasn't to be forgotten- as if Lena could.

Slowly and without her realising, she'd began to press down on the pedal too hard again, only this time, a little _too_ hard. Both women barely had time to stop what happened next as the clay in both of their hands spun too fast, flying straight into the both of them.

Lena yelped in surprise, lifting her foot from the pedal as if it burnt her. She looked down at her now sopping overalls, no part of them was left untouched by the brown mess in her lap. Lucky they'd both donned overalls, which seemed to take the brunt of the splash.

_“_ Well, I can honestly say that hasn't happened before. Good job, Oxton.”

“Sorry…” Lena quietly mumbled under her breath. She grabbed the lump of ruined clay from her lap and slapped it back on the wheel. “I guess I'm not cut out for this.”

Amélie was quiet behind her, making her fear the worst. What if she no longer wanted Lena in her class? But to her surprise, as Lena looked over her shoulder it was to find Amélie barely stifling her laughter, trying to hide it behind a dripping wet hand. Her chest quivering against Lena's back.

She stood, gently taking ahold of Lena's hand to pull her up. All traces of her earlier expressions gone from her face, instead replaced with light amusement. “Follow, Oxton. I have some cleaning supplies in the back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe I'm posting this only two weeks after the first chapter. I usually take forever but this was pretty quick to write! Big thanks to Saltsoldier for looking over my trash heaps, go check out their Mchanzo fic if you haven't already! 
> 
> This fic is mostly meant to be a bit of fun, didn't really expect to get much out of it, in all honesty! Let me know what you think!

As Lena was being lead into the back room, she'd become painfully aware of the slippery fingers loosely interlocked with her own.

The room she'd been taken to was rather small and somewhat cluttered, art supplies and pots (some broken) decorated the shelves and spare overalls hung in odd places. To her left, a sink and a few wooden cabinets full of what looked like sets of clean clothing. Lena supposed those were there just in case any mishaps occurred like her own. It smelled faintly of earthy pottery clay and old pencils.

Amélie let go of the shorter woman's hand before turning to her, looking down at her soaking overalls. “Throw those in the basket over there, would you?” she asked, gesturing near the sink as she began to walk away, lifting her own overalls over her head to chuck them behind her, towards Lena.

And Lena, being distracted as she was by those sashaying hips _and_ that little flash of skin as she lifted her overalls, wasn't ready for it as the balled up shirt hit her right in the face, making her jump in surprise. Scowling, she ripped the fabric from her face, barely catching the impish grin on the other woman's face as she sauntered through another door at the back, leaving Lena by herself.

After her instructor had disappeared, Lena shuffled over to the sink, wiping her sopping hands on the loose shirt before chucking it into the basket next to the basin. Slowly, she peeled her own clay caked overalls over her head, careful not to get it in her hair or on her clothes. As she threw her own shirt in the basket, she'd thought it was some sort of miracle that the mess from earlier hadn't reached her hair.

She turned towards the sink and twisted the warm water tap, careful not to get the faucet too muddy. She ran her fingers under the stream, waiting until the water warmed a bit before dunking both hands in, thankful to finally be able to wash the dried clay from them. Lena let her mind wander as she scrubbed at the dirt under her fingernails.

Lena bit her lip as she thought back to those toned forearms that had tickled her sides, of the cool breath that had whispered in her ear, the strong thighs that closed around her own, and those _fingers_ , God, those fingers that had slipped and slid between her own effortlessly.

Speak, or rather _think_ of the devil, Lena felt a sudden pressure against her rump as a familiar warm body pressed up against her, for the second time that morning. She froze, heat slowly rising up her freckled cheeks as those arms she'd been thinking about came from behind to use the sink in front of her. Lena made to scoot over to give more room until the taller woman's front pressed harder into her; arms tightly trapping her against the sink, one, she noticed was tattooed with what looked like cracked spiderwebs and bold text. How had she missed that before?

“Pass the soap, _ma chérie.”_

Suddenly, not noticing the tattoo before no longer mattered as Lena’s stomach fluttered. Those french words would be the death of her, if the woman kept it up. Probably knew it too, knowing her.

“The soap _, s'il vous plaît.”_

With shaky hands, Lena reached around the taps for the soap bottle and went to hand it back to her instructor. Amélie hadn't made a move to take it from her however, and before Lena could so much as offer the liquid soap, she purred in Lena’s ear, “Pour it on me.”

She blinked. Jesus fucking _Christ,_ could this get any more filthy than Lena already felt it was? Apparently so.

Lena hesitated a fraction, before squeezing the bottle over the other woman's outstretched hands, watching as a dollop of soap dribbled out to pool into Amélie’s palms, which began to move; lathering it into a bubbly foam.

“ _Merci.”_

Lena blurted back a mumbled reply, fumbling with the container before placing it back between the taps. At that, Amélie halted her movements, a sly smile gracing her lips as she reached for the shorter woman's hands, smoothly gliding her fingers across her knuckles, leaving soapy trails in their wake. She was pleased with the small jump she'd got out of the shorter woman, which encouraged her to keep going; slipping her lathered up fingers in between Lena's, using her thumbs to stroke circles over her palms, relishing from the barely audible gasp from Lena's lips.

Finally satisfied with the reaction she had received, not to mention wondering if she'd teased the poor girl too much, Amélie made quick work of rinsing both their hands under the warm stream of water, watching as the soapy suds swam down the drain. She reached above them both, pulling a fluffy white hand towel down from the top shelf of a cabinet, nudging her chest forward into Lena's back, _accidentally,_ of course, before wiping her hands dry.

Lena tried for the longest time to keep her back to the other woman, still dawdling in front of the sink; flinging the water droplets from her fingers against the basin. Unfortunately, she couldn't stay there forever and the silence stretched on for far too long, in her opinion. She slowly turned around, careful not to get any closer to the French woman as she leaned back against the sink.

A pair of golden eyes and a small smile greeted her once she'd turned around, while an outstretched hand offered her the fluffy towel, which she took gratefully. She couldn't help but look up at the her as they both shared the towel to dry their hands, noticing how those bright eyes flicked to hers every so often.

Lena couldn't take it any longer, the urge to say something to break the unbearable silence became too great.

“Y’know, for what it's worth? I _really_ am sorry, for all of,” she waved a clean dry hand in front of them and glanced to the sink and back, “this.”

The taller woman was quiet and Lena thought she might have unintentionally pissed her off, before she smiled, actually _smiled_ and waved her off.

“I'm not angry, Oxton,” Her smile turning more into a wicked smirk. “Perhaps… I shouldn't have teased you like that. A woman can only take so much, no?”

She gaped at her. “Y-you! You were doing that on purpose!”

Amélie chuckled, causing a tingly shiver to roll down Lena's spine. Even her laugh sounded pretty.

“ _Désolé._ You are quite fun to tease.”

She huffed in response, at least until a hand reached towards her face, a thumb swiped over her cheek, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. “You still have clay on your face.”

“Oh! I'll just-” before she could turn back towards the sink however, she felt the corner of a warm damp towel touch her cheek.

“Here.”

Lena wasn't sure where to look as the taller woman rid her of the cracked clay that stuck to her cheeks, preferring to close her eyes as Amélie’s piercing ones concentrated on wiping every last bit of muck that caked her freckled face; gently smoothing the towel over her embarrassingly pink cheeks, before rubbing down her small nose, then running a hand through her hair, raking back her fringe enough to rub at the brown speckles on her brow.

She decided to take a chance, cracking an eye open to watch the taller woman work and she _swore_ she saw the smallest of smiles as she did.

“Enjoying the view?”

Lena wasn't going to dignify _that_ with a response, instead, snapping her eye shut once more with a scoff. She couldn't keep her own smile from splitting her face, however.

“I thought so.”

She opened her eyes to find a smug look on her instructor's face.

“Oi, careful, love _. That_  pretty little head of yours might explode from all the compliments you're givin’ yourself.” she threw back.

Amélie arched an eyebrow, lowering the towel in her hands. “Pretty, hm?”

Lena shook her head, throwing her hands in the air. She made to sidestep her way around the French woman, towards the door and back to the classroom. “You're unbelievable!”

An arm snaked out in front of her, planting itself against the rim of the basin, stopping her from taking another step and effectively trapping her once more against the sink. Before she could say anything, Amélie’s face got way, _way_ too close to hers, close enough that she couldn't think of anything to say as the woman leaned into her temple to quietly murmur in her ear.

“Am I?” she asked coyly.

Lena barely had time to reply as slender fingers curled at the back of her neck, pulling her forward until she was met with a pair of soft, full lips that captured her own in a kiss.

She blinked, not quite believing what was happening, too shocked even to close her eyes and enjoy the taller woman's lips on hers. She felt the woman begin to withdraw, which made her realise she hadn't reciprocated. Her brain caught up with her, the cogs whirring in her head as she grabbed Amélie’s face in both hands to yank her back down, their lips meeting in the middle. Lena thought she could feel a smile against her mouth as a short laugh escaped those red lips against hers.

The hand at the back of Lena's neck weaved itself through her short hair, fingers tangling themselves snugly in her brown locks. One of her own hands sneaked its way around Amélie’s waist, settling against the small of her back to pull her closer, the fronts of their thighs bumping against each other. The fingers in her hair tugged sharply, making her groan quietly as their lips parted slightly; her heavy eyes sluggishly opening just a fraction before she surged forward on her toes, bumping her nose softly against Amélie’s before finding her lips, this time, grazing that plump bottom lip with her teeth.

Lena grinned at the little gasp she'd received for that, dragging her lips down towards her chin as she left a small, blazing trail of hot kisses here and there; across that sharp jawline, slowly down the French woman's neck and towards her collarbone. Her hands kept themselves busy as they dragged across Amélie’s back, stroking small patterns against her clothed skin. The hand in her hair untangled itself to rest at the side of her neck, pushing her back before pulling her up for another searing kiss. Lena’s hands balled into fists, clenching the back of the taller woman's shirt as she felt a pair of hands smoothing over her collar, fingers fumbling with the top buttons of her shirt.

As those lingering kisses started to descend lower, Lena wondered if they were _actually_ going to shag in this tiny backroom; but when those lips found a particular sweet spot on her neck, she couldn't give a toss. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, giving the taller woman a better angle. Once her shirt was ripped open, fingertips traced over her stomach; the soft pads running over her taut muscles, which quivered under Amélie’s touch.

If she'd known _this_ would be happening to her today, she would have decided on a nicer pair of underwear. Nevertheless, the woman towering over her didn't seem to mind as her fingers inched closer towards the elastic of her boxer shorts-

A loud knock from the door echoed throughout the supplies cupboard, making the two of them jump apart almost comically. Amélie glanced at Lena, lifting a single finger to her lips.

“Miss Lacroix? Are you in there?” One of the other students no doubt. Lena couldn't help but hate whoever it was for their crappy timing. How long had they even been in here for, she wondered.

Surprisingly, Amélie’s voice never wavered as she replied. “ _Oui,_  I will be out in a second. I was just lending Oxton a _hand._ ” her eyes never left Lena's as she swiped her thumb across the shorter woman's bottom lip, admiring how her lipstick had left red smudges on her lips and neck, how disheveled her already messy hair had become.

Amélie leaned in, pressing her lips against Lena's cheek so lightly that she barely felt it, but still leaving another pretty red mark.  

_“Délicieux.”_ She whispered.

She righted her clothing, smoothing the creases out of her blouse and fixed her lipstick with a thumb and forefinger. Lena just stood there, dumbfounded as the French woman turned to slowly blow a kiss in her direction, just before she walked out of the door.

What the hell just happened?

Lena licked her her lips, still able to taste Amélie’s lipstick. Was this just a one-time thing? A bit of harmless fun? As she thought back to those fingers brushing against her skin, she hoped to god not. After buttoning up her shirt, she worked on fixing her hair and rubbing off the lipstick staining her face with a towel. Part of her wanted to keep those where they were, show them off proudly. She imagined the reaction she'd get from the rest of the class with a grin.

After deeming herself appropriate, Lena left the back room moments later, eyes immediately scanning for the French woman. She found her pouring over the station of a green haired kid. What was his name again? Genny? She looked him over, unintentionally catching his eye. He peered up at their instructor, making sure she wasn't looking before glancing over at Lena, giving her a smirk.

That _smirk._  What a little- he interrupted them on purpose!

She growled. Alright _Gengu,_ or whatever your stupid name is. This is _war,_ Lena vowed.

 

* * *

 

Lena found herself back at her apartment, lounging in bed as she held her phone to her ear.

“I'm tellin’ you Lúc, she was all over me in that supply closet!” She told him, adjusting the phone to her other ear as she reached over to her bedside cabinet, plucking the purple voucher for her lessons from the surface.

She heard a chuckle on the other end of the line. _“You’re welcome, by the way.”_

“Oh _hardy har har.”_ She replied sarcastically. “This is _supposed_ to be the part where you give me advice, you wanker.”

A scoff. _“What advice am I exactly supposed to give? She likes you, so, what's the problem?”_

He had a point.

“How am I supposed to know if she wants to continue… this?” It wasn't often that Lena would seek advice, but she trusted her friend. 

_“Well you ask her, duh.”_

She grimaced. Surely it wasn't that simple. Lena chewed her lip as she looked over the purple card between her fingers. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer she'd receive, if it _was_ just a one-time bit of fun.

_“And if Winston’s_ ever _gonna get a nice sculpture from you, you need more practice.”_

“Oh sod off, you cheeky git!”

**Author's Note:**

> Other names for this fic include:
> 
> 'Let me mould you with my hands'  
> 'I like big pots'  
> 'Your fingers shape me'  
> 'Gay clay'  
> 'All fired up'  
> 'Make me wet and I become more flexible'  
> 'Lena enjoys playing with soft wet things'
> 
> I can't even with these names.
> 
> If anyone would like to join the gay Overwatch Discord, I'll leave a link here! We're mostly PS4 players but we've got a few on PC as well:
> 
> https://discord.gg/8ftDsnx


End file.
